


Clarity

by LibbyWrites



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [13]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Goodbyes, Happy Ending, Letters, M/M, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 19:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibbyWrites/pseuds/LibbyWrites
Summary: Sometimes life puts two people together at the wrong time and place. Other times, everything is just the way it's supposed to be.





	Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I decided to upload all my Tumblr drabbles on AO3 to have them all together in one place.
> 
> This is Drabble #13, requested by a very lovely anon. I had to write a drabble based on the song [Clarity](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IxxstCcJlsc), by Zedd, ft. Foxes. [Here](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/zedd/clarity.html) are the lyrics.
> 
> [Here](http://elerinwen.tumblr.com/post/160376892075/hey-libby-hope-youre-feeling-good-today-so-glad) is the original Tumblr post in case you want to check it out and [here](http://elerinwen.tumblr.com/ask) is my ask box in case you want to request something. (My prompt lists are over [here](http://elerinwen.tumblr.com/tagged/prompts)).
> 
> Thanks for reading and please leave comments or kudos if you liked it!

_London, May 24 th, 1965_

 

It was the song of the seagulls outside his window that woke Zayn up. It didn’t matter that he still lived in the same mansion he grew up in and that now, at eighteen years old, he should be used to it already. It was a song that tugged at his heart strings, it felt more like home than anything else around him. It wasn’t really strange that his brain decided to respond to it, tearing him out of his deep sleep.

He smiled, even before opening his eyes. He sighed, as his mind wandered along his body, recognizing the signs of the night before. His arms and legs still felt tired, his muscles were sore in all the right places, and he could still pinpoint the exact spots were rough love made him hurt so, so good. His smile deepened. He could still feel Liam’s smell on his pillow. He reveled in the knowledge that as soon as he moved, as soon as he reached out with his arms, he would find his lover’s body still stretched by his side, probably still asleep, looking soft and spent, the most beautiful thing Zayn had ever seen.

These mornings were the best. These little stolen moments, hidden from the world. Liam was probably supposed to be working already. He was supposed to be getting dressed to go have breakfast with his family. And yet, they were sleeping, together. It was such a sweet secret he almost didn’t care no one knew. It was better this way, wasn’t it? If anybody found out, the chances of them staying together were almost non-existent. Yeah, staying a secret was for the best, for the both of them.

Ready to kiss his secret good morning, Zayn finally moved a hand, searching for warm, soft skin. He found only cold sheets. Frowning, he opened his eyes. Liam’s side of the bed was empty. And he sighed, again. Not a satisfied sigh like before, no; it was a frustrated sigh this time. He kept his eyes fixed on the ruffled sheets Liam left behind, hating the sight. Hating these moments. Hating the mornings he didn’t get to enjoy Liam because his fear made him sneak out before the rest of the occupants of the house woke up.

He jumped out of bed, annoyed. Sad. There was no point in sleeping in if Liam wasn’t there. Waking up was smarter, maybe he could find Liam around and at least look at him from afar. Maybe he could go for a walk in the garden and find Liam trimming the rose bushes, belting a song under the sun. Maybe he could find him picking up ripe fruit from the orchard, humming low.

It was only after taking a shower and getting half-dressed that he found a white envelope sitting on his night table. Dread made his heart skip a beat as he sat on the mattress, opening it up. He recognized Liam’s hand writing and his heart felt like stopping altogether. “Fuck…” he muttered before reading, already knowing what he would find.

_“Dearest Zayn:_

_I write these words with the hope in my heart that one day you will forgive me. That one day you will understand me and see that what I’m doing is out of nothing but love._

_I’m watching you sleep as I write and I think I have never done anything as hard as this. I’ve never felt a deeper pain, I’ve never felt as guilty or as hurt. It truly feels like ripping half of my heart off, because that’s what you are, and that’s what you will always be. My better half, the love of my life, the brightest light I’ve ever seen._

_By the time you wake up, I will be gone. I presented my resignation to your father yesterday, and he accepted it. (Not without a fight, he said no one ever made his rose bushes blossom as I did. If only he knew that’s not the only thing that blossomed under my hands!)_

_I’m so sorry, love. I can’t keep doing this. To myself. To you. To us. Being a secret hurts me more than I can say, but that’s not the only reason I’m leaving. I’ve been through worse in my life, I can take it. I can see the pain in your eyes, though. I can see how being with me has brought too many complications and problems to your life. I can see how the relationship with your family ended up completely broken. I can see how keeping what we are and what you are a secret is killing you._

_And the worst part is that I know that if I asked, you would do it. You would sacrifice your everything, for me. And I don’t want that. I can’t do that to you. I can’t ask that of you. I can’t make you lose all your common sense, and the things you and your family fought so long for. I can’t keep putting you between the rock and the hard place. I can’t keep being that rock._

_I’m sorry, love, because I wish we could make it work, but we can’t. We have been doing this for almost two years, and the last few months have been painful. The last few months we fought so much, and you think I didn’t, but I noticed you crying yourself to sleep when you’re with me. And know you don’t know, but I fall apart alone in my room every time I leave your bed, every time I see you from afar, every time I realize we’re never really going to be together the way we want. What we have is the most amazing love story ever written, but it’s set in the wrong place, in the wrong time._

_I chose to write you this letter because I can’t see you cry again. I can’t hear you speak as I try to leave because we both know what we'll choose. If you pull then I'll push too deep and I'll fall right back to you, and I’ll never leave, and we’ll keep hurting each other. This is the hardest decision I have ever made. You have made me so happy, Zayn, so incredibly happy. There’s been days when the idea of leaving felt ridiculous. If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy? If our love is insanity, why are you my clarity? If we’re so wrong, why does it feel so right? All I want is to stay and watch you sleep until you wake up and smile when you see me, but I can’t. I’m drowning, love. I love you too much and I can’t keep hurting you like this._

_I know that one day, life will be different for us. I leave with the hope that your courage and your big heart will set you free one day, and maybe we’ll meet again. Maybe, years from now, in the right place and the right time, we’ll meet again. Maybe you will have understood what I did, maybe you will have forgiven me. Maybe the red string that ties your heart to mine will finally tie us together._

_I love you, Zayn. My light. My beautiful prince. I will love you forever. I’m sorry._

_Liam.”_

The letter fell to the floor, along with Zayn’s heart. Liam was gone. Liam decided to leave and told Zayn nothing about it. Liam left a letter trying to explain the unexplainable, and left.

There was no more dread in Zayn’s heart. No more seagulls singing. No more nothing. He let the emptiness consume his soul, letting the world slip away. Maybe, like Liam said, there would be time for understanding and forgiveness. Maybe, far in the future, there would be time for healing. In that second, there was nothing but all-encompassing darkness.

  
  
~~~

 

_Paris, June 3 rd, 1980_

It was hotter than he expected in the city, but Zayn still indulged his sister. How could he not? She was, after all, the only member of the Malik family that still talked to him. When she called him a few days before, letting him know she would make a stop in Paris during her bookshop tour, he jotted the date down and bought the plane tickets without a second thought.

She had become a successful writer, and Zayn was incredibly proud of that. Her books were beautiful novels he had read more than once for more reasons that just the fact that they were written by Wali. She had created lovely stories inspired by her own love stories. She had gotten married and divorced and remarried and divorced again and had made the best of the cards she was dealt, turning her drama into money. With her second divorce finalized she was feeling a little lonely, which was another good reason to meet her.

They had lunch at a place Wali recommended. Zayn had never been to Paris before. Nothing against the city itself, maybe only against its reputation. You know, the city of love and all. Love was practically a complete stranger to Zayn. Love was a distant, faded memory he had a hard time recalling. Love was something he didn’t care for, which was a bit ironic, considering how much time he spent thinking about it. Or thinking about the idea of it. Or even trying to recall it, in vain. Years and years had gone by since that one and only time he felt it, so he simply never bothered trying to find it again. What was the point?

Besides, it’s not like he had possible lovers raining on him. He used to, back when he was still practically a kid, only they were the wrong gender. Because his parents insisted for years. They kept introducing him to beautiful high society ladies that did nothing for him. They kept trying to get him a beautiful, wholesome wife, a woman of the same faith and of course the same social status, and they kept getting disappointed. Zayn was not interested. Not in women, not in anyone. Half his heart had walked out the door and he was left alone and locked in a cage, looking out the window at the old man his family had hired to replace the previous gardener, wishing those stupid rose bushes would wither and die.

And after that… After that he finally decided to come out of that cage. But it wasn’t out of braveness, no. It wasn’t even because he was tired of feeling trapped. He simply felt so damn empty and dead inside, it didn’t matter anyways. His outside could very much match his insides. So what if he was fresh out of college and still out of a source of income of his own? So what if his entire family hated him? So what if his father screamed at his face that he was a worthless faggot? So what if his mother cried tears of disappointment? He simply declared he was gay during a Saturday family dinner, and he didn’t wait for his father to kick him out. He walked out with nothing but the clothes he was wearing, and he never looked back.

Life was shit after that, but it didn’t really matter, did it? Not having money and having to find ways to survive was shit, but it didn’t make a difference, not in his heart. He didn’t feel free. He didn’t feel happy. He didn’t feel worse than before either, he was just… numb. Still numb. He drew portraits of people on the streets for money, that man he once loved always said he had a gift for that. He slept wherever he could. He survived. Most days no one even recognized him. When someone did, he politely said they were mistaken. He just did his best to stay alive and try not to lose what little humanity he had left.

It was Wali that lifted him up, that night she found him sleeping on a bench. It was Wali that cried holding him tight. It was Wali that kicked him back into shape. Not with hand-outs, Zayn absolutely refused. She simply breathed a little life back into his bones and made him feel maybe it wasn’t the end of the world. He slowly fought his way back out of the pit of despair he was in, and somehow ended up where he was. Walking the streets of Paris with his sister after a delicious meal, looking around to find inspiration for what could possibly be a new collection of paintings based on cities of the world. Yeah, someone agreed on that him being talented thing. And rich, eclectic old woman found him drawing on a park and offered him a job that ended up with him having his own expositions on popular London galleries. Who would’ve thought?

He was okay. No, not happy. Not in the place he wanted to be, not by a long shot, that place was a memory. He was still incredibly lonely, and he was still struggling with himself most days, but at least he was okay. He had a decent job, he had Wali, he was alive.

“Oh, those roses look marvelous,” Wali exclaimed, bringing Zayn back from his thoughts. He looked at where his sister was pointing. They were passing by a quaint flower shop, baskets upon baskets of colorful flowers decorating the entrance.

He looked at the flowers with disinterest. Yet another one of those things that made him feel a hole in his stomach. He shrugged, praying in his mind his sister would just keep on walking, the perfume of the flowers was making him dizzy with unwanted memories. He stopped enjoying those memories long ago. No such luck, though. Wali stopped to smell a big bouquet of big red roses, and he stopped right by her side. Froze, more like. No, not because of the flowers. He stopped because he felt like he was losing his mind.

That melody. That voice. Someone was singing a song inside the shop, and his heart absolutely fucking stopped beating, and then started pounding without mercy. Just like the fragrant smell of the roses, just like the way sometimes the morning light his his cup of coffee just right making it look just the right rich, deep shade of brown, just like the feeling of an ocean breeze, that song stirred memories inside him, that voice pierced his soul and for a moment, the world didn’t look blurry anymore. Fuck… He stood like an idiot in the middle of the street while Wali smelled flowers, shaking in his boots, feeling his eyes well up with tears. He stood there, unable to move. His instincts screamed that he had to run. Run the fuck away from those memories because it couldn’t be. Because even if it was, it was impossible. It made no sense. Whatever the odds, there was nothing but heartbreak coming from inside the shop, and he wanted to cry. Oh, he knew his masochism well. He stood there, frozen, because he knew exactly what he was going to do next. He knew exactly what he was going to be unable to stop himself from doing next.

“Wali…” he called. She was too enamored with the bouquet she was putting together to pay attention. “Wali…” he tried again, his voice shaky.

She finally looked up, and it took her two seconds to notice something wasn’t right. “Zayn, honey… What is it?” she asked, concerned. Maybe she knew exactly what was happening. Or well, not exactly, he doubted everyone in the house paid as much attention to that voice as he did. She knew, however, what was the exact face he made every time those memories showed up, or so she said.

Zayn just shook his head. He was pretty sure he was not going to be able to explain exactly what was happening. Not without crying. Not without sounding completely insane. “Just… Can you go back to the hotel?” he asked, cringing at how broken his voice sounded. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” he promised, grabbing her free hand and squeezing it.

Wali nodded with a knowing smile on her lips. How did she always know? She just handed him the roses she was holding and squeezed his hand back. “Can you buy those for me? Please? See you in a bit,” she promised with a wink before leaving. Zayn was pretty sure she wasn’t really aware of what was really happening, maybe she just thought it was the roses and Zayn needed a moment to overcome the sad memory. He was still thankful that she somehow got it. That she knew that whatever was happening, he had to do it alone.

Once she was gone, he sighed, trying to gather his senses, trying to find his center. In vain. He was holding roses that smelled like that heaven he once knew. He was hearing a voice he woke up to way too many magical mornings. He was dying inside. He thought about following Wali a hundred times in one minute, but finally his masochism won.

He breathed deep, once, twice, three times, and he walked in the store, holding on to those roses for dear life. The front of the shop was empty, but now he could hear the song with absolute clarity. The voice was coming from the back, and just like he was hypnotized, he kept moving. Kept walking, slowly, step by step, until he found the source in a little back room, hunched over a table, putting together a breathtaking bridal bouquet.

Zayn started crying before he could even think of doing anything else. He couldn’t run, he couldn’t talk, he couldn’t throw himself at him. He just felt tears streaming down his face because there was Liam. His Liam. His beautiful, magnificent Liam. A gorgeous, older version of his Liam, singing a sweet tune, working his magic on those flowers, completely unware of his beauty, completely unaware of the man watching him while dying inside.

Zayn dreamt of this moment so many times it almost felt like another memory. He fantasized about finding Liam again in a thousand ways. It felt ethereal, surreal. It felt like another dream. Until Liam looked up and finally saw him. He didn’t even startle, almost like he was expecting Zayn. Which was impossible and ridiculous. He just looked up and his warm, wonderful eyes focused on Zayn, and his face… Oh god. Zayn covered his mouth with his free hand. Liam was so beautiful. He was beautiful as a young man and he was brutally breathtaking as a grown man. Those eyes made everything real. It was not a dream. Liam was not a dream he once dreamed, nor a dream he was dreaming right there and then. He was real.

The song stopped slowly, the words disappearing into thin air while they looked at each other, not moving an inch, like any movement could make the mirage disappear. Zayn could see on Liam’s face the exact moment recognition hit. His relaxed expression changed, but not in a bad way. There was no frown, no pout, no sadness at all. It was more like a light suddenly illuminated his features, the face of the grown man suddenly mixing with the younger one in Zayn’s memory.

“Zayn…” the whisper wasn’t a question. It was a statement, it was a calling, it was a dagger right through Zayn’s heart. The roses fell to the floor as Zayn covered his mouth to hide a broken sob. It was all a blur as Liam moved and Zayn forced himself to keep his eyes open not to miss a moment. There was no hint of hesitation as Liam dropped the bouquet on the table and left his station, walking towards Zayn, standing right in front of him, his fists opening and closing at his sides like he didn’t know what to do. The few corners of Zayn’s brain that weren’t melting yet tried to register the man in front of him. How he was taller than before, but his skin was just as golden. How his shoulders were broader, but his eyes were just as sweet. How he was clearly someone else and at the same time the exact same person, the exact same lovely man, with those lips to die for and the ever present smell of flowers on his clothes and those tender, tender hands.

Hands that somehow ended on Zayn’s shoulders, hands that pulled him close until Zayn practically sagged against Liam’s chest, desperately breathing in the other man but feeling that stupid sharp pain in his chest every time he did so. There was no cell on his body that was not wired to react to Liam, and it had been so damn long. Too damn long. Impossibly so, to the point of feeling this was never ever going to happen again. There was no point hoping, so he stopped doing it. The world was too big, there was no way they would actually find each other again, and even if they did…

Liam’s arms tightened around him, protectively, like so many times before, almost like he was reading Zayn’s thoughts, almost like saying it wasn’t impossible. Almost like saying maybe… Maybe… Zayn pushed that ridiculous idea aside and simply enjoyed the moment as best as he could, knowing it would probably be short lived. Surely Liam would run away again. Surely Liam would leave him again with an ‘It was nice seeing you’ and that would be it. Liam would return to whatever wonderful life he had, and Zayn would return to his shitty one. He would go back to his loneliness, back to missing something he would never ever get back.

He would go back to pretending he was strong and he didn’t care eventually, but for a moment he just let go. He just embraced the bittersweet pain of being in those arms again, he held on as hard as he could, capturing the fabric of Liam’s shirt in his fists, getting lost in the dizzying warmth of that embrace, until Liam spoke again. “I’m sorry…” he whispered in Zayn’s hair. “I’m so, so sorry…” he repeated, and Zayn’s fists tightened. What was he supposed to say to that? How was he supposed to say that part of him completely understood why Liam left and had forgiven him the second he read that letter, but part of him was still hurt and broken and bleeding? How was he supposed to say that he spent all of these years wishing Liam was happy because he deserved better than Zayn, but at the same time he wished he could have kept him just for himself? A mess of apologies and demands and screams and whispers invaded Zayn’s mind, fighting to get out and running for cover at the same time. It was Liam, however, the one that broke the silence again. “I’ve regretted leaving you since the first step I took outside your door… I’m so sorry, god…” he mumbled in a broken voice. Liam was crying. Zayn’s heart had a hard time registering the words after noticing Liam was definitely crying.

But yeah, the words eventually reached his brain and fuck, he needed to stop, needed to think, needed to digest them or something but it was impossible because he felt warm and dizzy and so at home he could die. So he moved. He tried to, at least, letting go of Liam’s shirt, moving back a bit to look at him. It wasn’t the first time Liam cried in front of him but somehow this older version of Liam crying hurt even more. Why was he crying? Why was he sorry? Why in the world did he regret leaving and… “Why didn’t you come back for me? I waited for so long…” he asked. He confessed. He had to know anyways, right? That his broken heart wouldn’t just magically fix itself? That it would take him years? That he was still broken?

Liam shook his head and used a clumsy hand to clean his face. “How could I?” he asked, shrugging. “I was pretty sure you would hate me. Leaving made sense for a bit, but after I realized it didn’t it was too late, wasn’t it?”

It was Zayn’s turn to shake his head. He took two steps backwards, feeling those words almost like a slap in the face. “Too late?” he asked, holding himself in a pathetic attempt at replacing the comfort of Liam’s arms. “How can you say that? It wasn’t too late. It isn’t too late, it never will be. Were you not paying attention the million times I told you you were the love of my life? Why in the world would you leaving change that?” His voice rose, his frustration grew, because how could Liam not see? “You left me with no choice, with no way to find you, with no say in the matter. Oh my god, Liam, I would have followed you. Fuck my family, I lost everything anyways. Fuck, I finally came out and all I wanted was having you there waiting for me but you weren’t there, Liam! And the worst part is I can’t blame you. I can’t, god, I put you through hell, but… God, I would’ve followed you. I would’ve followed you out of that hell and I would’ve lived in the streets and I would’ve eaten scraps and I would’ve been happy because it was with you. Instead I ended up doing all those things, alone. Missing you. Missing you every single bloody day.”

Liam was quiet. He just stood there, looking at Zayn like a deer in headlights, his eyes full of silent tears, his arms around his torso, mirroring Zayn. “I’m sorry…” he mumbled again, and Zayn lost it.

There was that sorry bullshit again. All his sadness and heartbreak suddenly turned into anger and he marched towards a very surprised Liam again, forcing him back against the wall. “Stop apologizing!” he ordered through gritted teeth, trying to make himself bigger. In vain, of course, Liam was now clearly taller than him and more muscular. That didn’t keep him from looking like a scared puppy, eyes wide open, mouth parted, body flat against the wall. “You can’t give me the past fifteen years back. You can’t fix it, Liam, just stop… stop…” Zayn was sure he was going somewhere with what he was trying to say but… he was practically pressing Liam against the wall and Liam was looking at him with something in his eyes that wasn’t fear or sadness anymore, and he lost his train of thought. Liam’s eyes had changed, yes, the crinkles were deeper, the brown was richer, but that expression. There was desperation there. There was fire. There was something in his heavy breathing, in his open lips. There was electricity, there were words that didn’t need saying, there were tacit questions and blatant answers. There was something, something changed in the energy of the air around them, or inside them, something changed and maybe those fifteen years were lost but Zayn felt eighteen again, feeling his entire body beg for just one thing, knowing his own eyes were betraying him. Or not. Maybe it was him that tried to cheat himself out of what he really wanted.

Maybe it was him that moved first, maybe it was Liam, maybe they met halfway. All Zayn knew was that suddenly there was no air anymore, there was nothing separating them anymore, nothing between them but the sweet taste of Liam’s lips desperately kissing him, their arms a mess of pulling and grabbing while Zayn pushed Liam against the wall kissing him back, kissing him hard, pouring all of his sadness and frustration and anger and desperation into that kiss, trying to say all those things he had no words for. Liam’s fingers found his back under his clothes, Zayn’s fingers found Liam’s hair, and with tears still fresh on his cheeks he just chased that feeling and kissed the ever living shit out of Liam, He kissed him for that stupid morning, he kissed him for those fifteen years, he kissed him for everything and with everything he had, every little moan out of their mouths a prayer that expelled demons, every touch a balm that healed wounds.

At some point Liam took control and Zayn let him, he let himself be lifted off the floor and carried to the table Liam was working on. He opened his legs and welcomed Liam between them, holding on for dear life. And just like the air had changed a moment before, for some reason it changed again, the kiss slowing down, the touched becoming tender, the desperation becoming sweetness. Zayn was not holding onto Liam out of need anymore. The kiss lost its fury, its fire, and Zayn was back at wanting to cry his heart out. He was kissing Liam. He found his Liam again, and somehow all those years apart didn’t matter anymore if they managed to find each other like this again. His trembling lips left Liam’s, traveling a path they already knew well all the way to Liam’s neck, to that beautiful little corner Zayn had declared his so long ago. He closed his eyes tight with his lips resting on soft skin, and he just held Liam. He let Liam hold him back. He let himself cry and this time the tears were less disbelief and the world crashing and burning and more needing with all of his heart to keep this. To keep Liam. “I missed you so much…” he whispered, hiding his face, terrified of what Liam could say. Maybe this wasn’t the time either. Maybe Liam already had a life, maybe this wasn’t supposed to happen, maybe their walk down memory lane was coming to an end.

“I missed you too…” Liam replied, tightening his arms around Zayn, scratching the back of Zayn’s neck just the way he liked it. “I don’t want to lose you again. Ever,” he declared, and Zayn forced the sudden burst of hope back down his throat.

He left his little hiding place, needing to see Liam’s eyes. Those eyes were always so transparent, so honest. He found them red and puffy and brimming with tears. Once again, there was no deception there. Only hope, the same hope Zayn tried to ignore. Still, he had to ask. “What does that mean, Liam?” he asked, his voice broken and full of pathetic, desperate need.

“It means maybe this is it,” Liam replied, shrugging, a small smile crinkling his eyes a bit. “It means maybe this is the right place, and the right time. It means… it means… remember the red string?” he asked. Like Zayn could ever forget. Like Zayn didn’t have every single word still seared in his mind.

Zayn sighed. The answer was obvious and he had two options. Either speak like a normal person, or actually show Liam how well he remembered. The second one was dramatic and probably ridiculous but… Liam was hinting at something Zayn had dreamed about for fifteen years. Liam was suggesting that there was actually a chance they could go somewhere from here. And that’s why Zayn raised a shaky right hand between them. There was a single red line tattooed around his wrist, carefully knotted right on top of the veins of his inner wrist. He turned his hand around, and on the other side there was a single silver charm tattooed as if tied to the red string, in the shape of a rose. He let Liam inspect the ink for a bit before breaking the silence. “I do remember…” he confirmed, just in case it was necessary. Just in case Liam needed more evidence that Zayn never stopped loving him. Not a single day. Liam left behind an eighteen years old boy, in love with him, and today he found a thirty three years old man, just as in love with him as before. “And I do understand, and I do forgive you. And too much time has passed and we’re probably two completely different people but I’ve never found anyone my heart could love the way I loved you, and fuck… I… I really want to try. I want to get to know you all over again. I want to fall in love with you again. I want that like I never wanted anything in my life,” he explained, his fingers softly wiping tears from Liam’s face.

“I want that too,” Liam nodded, his head moving to meet Zayn’s touch. “I spent every day these years wishing I had the courage to find you, and when you left your parents’ house, I… god, I thought I had lost you forever. I can’t believe fate brought you to me like this, almost like it’s meant to be,” he explained, his hand finding Zayn’s, intertwining their fingers, bringing the tattooed wrist to his lips to kiss it softly. His other hand went to cup Zayn’s face carefully. “I still love you. I never stopped. I thought I was going crazy, loving a memory, but now you’re here and I feel the same butterflies I felt back then and… I just love you, Zayn,” he declared, and fuck, there were the tears again. “I love you and I don’t want to lose you again and I want to try? I want to see if this time it’s right,” he explained, a hopeful look on his face.

Zayn nodded. He didn’t even need to make the decision, it had already been made the second he decided to follow the song. A scenario in which he said no because it was too dangerous and he walked away from Liam was as ridiculous as it was impossible. That damn red string was most definitely tied tight around them both, and neither him nor Liam fought it, they just let it squeeze them together as they smiled, finding clarity in each other’s eyes.


End file.
